It Begins
by N.K. Svenski
Summary: The story. The one no one in the Fallout world knows of, yet everyone has heard of. The Old World. It used to be a beacon of flashing lights, advertisements on TV, Mister Handy floating around kitchens, and people sitting on couches and enjoying dinner. I give you the answer to one of the most-asked questions; What happened?


**DATE: November 7th, 2076. 350 days before Nuclear Fallout. The clock counts down.**

**The Great War rages on. All sides race to develop better equipment, recruit more troops, and create more weapons.**

**The Council has created The Project, a secretive group funded by the government, RobCo and Vault-Tec. They create new weapons and armor for the American military, though this is not the extent of their research. **

**Vault-Tec Vaults are advertised on television, and more people sign up on their already long lists, wary of what is to come.**

**RobCo advertises weapons on TV for personal defense, along with supplying weapons to the military.**

**Although they do not know it yet, the world is on a train-ride to Nuclear War, and no one can stop it.**

**Because war...war never changes.**

Doctor John Stanford walked among the crowded streets of New York, throwing a look of disgust here and there. He hated crowded places. He preferred the quiet solitude of The Dome, the head research lab of The Project.

The forty-four year old male had been a scientist for eighteen of those years, and leader of The Project for two of them. He had been 'recruited' when he was twenty-two, and had been pulled out of Oxford University. He had then worked as a scientist, though with no specific work.

As he walked towards The Renaissance, a hotel that was really just a front for The Dome, he looked around him. It was snowing, currently, which was one of the reason he wanted to hurry. Despite wearing two shirts, a heavy wool coat, a scarf, a hat, facial hair (hehe), two pairs of socks and three pairs of underwear, he was still cold. Not that it mattered. In his opinion, -27 degrees was much better than the scorching heat New York could have in summer. It was, however, surprisingly cold for November. It would be around fifty degrees normally. Instead it was early-January weather.

"Hello there, Dr. Stanford." Drake the Doorman greeted him. Drake was actually a guard, with a 10mm pistol hidden in his coat.

"Hello Drake. You sure you don't want to be inside? Freezing cold out here." John greeted him. Drake was standing outside, which, even though he was a guard, was still odd.

"Don't worry about me, I got this new jacket. Keeps me warm as I can get." The large coat covered his entire 6'4, 212 pound body.

"Nice. See you later, Drake." Drake uttered a similar goodbye as Stanford stepped into the elevator. He looked at the buttons; there were twenty of them. Stanford pressed five in an order; 4-7-18-12-1.

The elevator shuddered for a moment, then moved down instead of up. There was a button for the basement, which would have been maybe a few seconds, but this was longer than a few seconds. Perhaps a full minute later, the elevator stopped, and opened into a hallway.

The floor was metal, like a Vault, but there were several doors and offices along the side. The 'intersection' infront of him - it was a meeting of all four hallways going into different directions - was full of people, going this way and that way, most of them on their own separate business. Stanford walked by, to the left, and up the stairs, then left, and into his surprisingly large office.

The office - ironically - was dome-shaped, with a large meeting table in the almost immediate entry area. Various pictures surrounded the room; pictures of world leaders, or just personally-liked art. A television - had there been a meeting in session - would have been hanging from above, having come out of a panel in the ceiling. He walked by the empty table, towards a door directly infront of the rectangular shape. He opened the door, and stepped into what had been nicknamed "The Observation Deck." It was named as such because the frontal lobe was made of glass, and Stanford liked looking down and seeing how everything was going.

The central area looked like a deluxe hotel lobby. There was small bridge over a stream, and vegetation - most of it uniquely designed by the people at the lab, a personal touch - descending through the area. While it wasn't originally built to be there, but Stanford thought it would help the workers here feel a bit more comfortable, as they were only allowed to see their families one weekend a month.

John Stanford would only sit down in his comfortable office chair for a moment, looking at everyone. Then he sighed, and got back up, however reluctantly.

He took a Mountain Dew from his fridge. They were only allowed to have water or juice. Stanford let the team have 'carbonated beverages'; soda, flavored water, etc. etc, even though they weren't supposed to. He tried to be a good boss, though the team knew he could get loud and mean if needed. He moved down to the development area.

Their main project was the power armor. It was in it's final stages, and the military needed it - badly. It could - and most likely would - turn the tide of the war. In fact, they had been commanded to put most other projects on hold, and finish this, 'effective immediately', as they put it. That was two weeks ago. Now, Stanford checked in everyday.

"How's it doing?"

"Going well. For now." Elijah responded.

"For now?"

"Something keeps going wrong with the air purifier to the suit. They're fine for maybe thirty minutes, then they begin to cough, and before long, they begin to asphyxiate. Becoming a problem. I've tried everything so far, but...nothing seems to be working."

"It is indeed a problem. The General will have my ass if she doesn't get this soon." Stanford said. 'the General' being the military leader in this project. Almost no one liked her, and almost everyone but Stanford was scared of her.

"Oh, um... about the General..." Elijah said hesitatingly.

"What is it, Eli?"

"Yeah...she's coming two days from now."

"WHAT?" Stanford said, suddenly furious. "AND NO ONE TOLD ME?"

"I just found out!" Elijah replied defensively.

Stanford sighed, and drank his Mtn Dew.

"Why are you so worried about her anyway? You always have been, what is she, your ex?"

"You could say that." Stanford said as he took another drink. "She's my wife.

* * *

><p>Note; this is just the beginning of the story. I do not plan on making this an extremely long story. Just more of a short story, ish.<p> 


End file.
